


feel the light start to tremble

by arabmorgan



Series: If I Lose Myself [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Blood Drinking, M/M, Urban Fantasy, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29433318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabmorgan/pseuds/arabmorgan
Summary: In which Yeosang smells ridiculously good and Wooyoung just can't leave well enough alone.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang
Series: If I Lose Myself [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162070
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68





	feel the light start to tremble

**Author's Note:**

> I posted the first part of this on Twitter a couple of months back and decided to expand it for a small woosang drabble series covering different verses. Clearly, this got out of hand and became a bit more than a drabble lol.

Wooyoung notices the other man first largely because of how bored he looks, just standing in a corner with what looks like a lemonade in one hand, staring out at the packed dance floor with the blankest expression Wooyoung has ever seen. In all his considerable years, Wooyoung has never before encountered such utter indifference to the sensual mass of vampires and humans before them, locked in a once-predatory dance that’s been tamed over the centuries.

Grinning and amused, Wooyoung sidles over, ignoring the questioning tilt of Seonghwa’s head as he leaves, and taps the stranger once on the shoulder. “No one here catch your fancy?” he purrs, his voice teasing rather than darkly intent. He’s not thirsty right then, merely eager for some excitement to fill his night now that San has so inconsiderately ditched him for some pretty human.

The man turns to face him, brows furrowed, and Wooyoung is momentarily taken aback. He doesn’t know if it’s the combination of blonde hair and pale skin, or just a figment of his own overactive imagination, but the stranger before him almost seems to glow in the dim lighting. It’s very odd, because Wooyoung isn’t usually susceptible to mortal beauty – it’s a fact that vampires are far more collectively beautiful than the living – but there’s a sort of soothing delicacy to the human’s features that somehow manages to rival the otherworldly allure of even Seonghwa himself.

The stranger looks Wooyoung up and down only once, and then he says shortly, “I’m here with a friend.”

Wooyoung hesitates at the obvious dismissal, floundering for an answer for the first time in a long while. “Oh,” he says dumbly, keeping up his coy smile as he grasps ineffectually for some other conversation starter. “Well, do you want to do something while you wait?”

“Like what? Give you my blood? No, not particularly.” A flicker of emotion crosses the man’s face, a funny mix of amusement and annoyance that straightens Wooyoung’s back, the playful defiance that has caused his coven so much grief finally roaring to life in his belly.

He’s still not thirsty, but now he just really wants to win.

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” he coos in a sing-song voice. “All the humans flock here for a reason, you know. We’re perfectly safe, promise. I’ll only give you a tiny nip if you’re nervous, just enough for you to feel good.” He reaches out to touch his palm to the young man’s elbow, a gentle motion designed to encourage, but the human only looks down at where Wooyoung is touching him with unnerving detachment.

Taking hold of Wooyoung’s wrist with three careful fingers, the stranger removes the offending appendage from his elbow like it’s diseased. “It’s for your own good, vampire. You wouldn’t want to bite me,” he says, his voice low and disinterested as he looks back out at the dance floor, probably searching for his friend, who’s almost certainly having a better time than the two of them, Wooyoung thinks irritably.

“I have a name, you know,” he says with a huff as he settles back against the wall, his arms folded petulantly. “It’s Wooyoung.”

“Good to know,” the man hums, in a manner that suggests he honestly doesn’t care.

Very real anger stirs in Wooyoung then – he can’t remember the last time he’s ever felt so horribly disrespected. Stupid pretty human. Why is he even in a vampire club if he isn’t going to be friendly to the majority population? He glares out into the undulating mass of bodies, automatically searching for San’s distinctive pink hair in the dim lighting.

Despite all his efforts, Wooyoung can still see the faint glow of the human’s presence out of the corner of his eye, and he blinks rapidly as if that will cure his perfect eyesight. His ears, on the other hand, are still working just fine, and it’s impossible for him to miss the loud, excited call of “Yeosang!” as a tall man passes him by, and it’s just as impossible for him to miss the calm baritone that responds from right by his side, albeit marginally less emotionless than before.

_Yeosang_ , Wooyoung thinks as he turns slightly, just enough to watch as the two friends walk away from him, and it is with a wistful sort of irritation that he realises he’ll most likely never see that infuriating human again.

* * *

Of course, as if to prove Wooyoung wrong, he sees Yeosang another three more times over the next two weeks, trudging into the club after his tall friend, who is clearly much more interested in vampires than Yeosang is. Not that Wooyoung’s been counting or anything, but Yeosang is fairly hard to miss, given that something about his beauty makes him seem almost luminous. He reminds Wooyoung of the moon, cold and pale and merciless.

Even Seonghwa once deigns to comment on how striking Yeosang’s features are, and Seonghwa never pays any attention to humans ever unless his fangs are in them.

Still miffed at Yeosang’s blatantly casual dismissal of him from before, it takes Wooyoung a little while longer for his stubborn curiosity to overtake his hurt pride and push him into a second attempt at conversation with the human. He puffs himself up, shoulders pushed back and an expression of faux surprise on his face as he strolls up to Yeosang, careful to use that graceful, gliding vampiric pace that both unnerves and impresses so many humans.

“Oh, it’s you again,” he says with impressive nonchalance, as if he is only seeing Yeosang again for the first time after their brief first meeting.

“You again,” Yeosang parrots back at Wooyoung without missing a beat, hardly seeming surprised by his presence at all. He seems more relaxed at last, perhaps finally convinced that his friend isn’t about to be drained dry by whatever night demon it is that has seduced him. He actually turns his full attention on Wooyoung, who fortunately is quite old enough to hide the little tremor of excitement that goes through him at the laser focus of those dark eyes.

“Well, everyone’s got to eat,” Wooyoung says casually, with a blasé little shrug of his shoulders as he eyes Yeosang carefully for his reaction.

It’s very slight, probably nigh unnoticeable to another human, but Wooyoung catches the minute widening of Yeosang’s eyes and the subtle clench of his jaw in response. Frustratingly, he just can’t tell if it’s a fear reaction or an expression of interest.

Wooyoung takes a smooth step closer, and it’s only when Yeosang pointedly turns away once more to scan the crowd that he realises how quickly he’s lost him for the night. _Damn_. San’s warned him a hundred times before about triggering the fight or flight response in humans – apparently, Wooyoung tends to make his moves too quickly, tends to come off as too aggressive, too _predatory_ to be attractive.

Well, it’s not his fault most humans are wimps.

He tries again the following week anyway. It’s rather fun, really, to meet a human who doesn’t fall half in love with him immediately just because he’s a vampire for once.

It’s a weekday and the club is significantly less crowded than usual, and for the first time Wooyoung manages to catch more than a faint whiff of Yeosang’s scent when the human brushes a lock of pale hair out of his eyes. It’s like nothing Wooyoung’s ever smelled off a human before – oddly sharp, like mint, or a shot of caffeine, along with a lovely freshness that puts him in mind of pine forests and snow-capped mountains.

Even that brief sniff is enough to wake Wooyoung right up in a startling way, and he says without thinking, “You smell nice.” It’s a genuine compliment, not designed to lure or seduce, but only as he’s speaking does he realise that his fangs have somehow extended. In fact, he’s almost drooling at the thought of nibbling on Yeosang’s neck, and Yeosang himself is staring at Wooyoung like he’s sprouted the devil’s own horns on his head.

“I should go,” Yeosang says, his voice low, looking almost scared as he backs away from Wooyoung, and Wooyoung can’t find anything to say to stop him. The first clear emotion he’s managed to draw from Yeosang and it’s _fear_ , of all things. He hasn’t been so mad at himself in decades – San would probably pull a rib from laughing if he heard about Wooyoung dropping his fangs uncontrolled like some starving newborn.

Yeosang leaves in a hurry, on his own and without even waiting for his tall friend, and that’s how Wooyoung knows that he’s probably scared Yeosang so badly that he’ll never set foot in a vampire club ever again.

* * *

The next time they meet is the day Wooyoung swears he will never laugh at the concept of fate again.

There’s simply no other way to explain it, how in a city of almost 10 million people he can somehow end up at the very same birthday celebration as Yeosang. It’s not even a vampire event, but Wooyoung’s known Hongjoong for years, so his presence is more of a courtesy than anything despite all the other humans present giving him the distrustful stink eye.

It’s the faint shimmer in the corner of the room that he notices first, before he looks over and sees Yeosang standing there with a smile on his face, somehow transformed from merely beautiful to downright stunning. Wooyoung finds himself at a loss, layering onto his existing unease around so many less-than-friendly humans – his first instinct is to approach and say hi, but he doesn’t know if Yeosang would even be happy to see him.

In the end, it’s Yeosang who accidentally bumps into Wooyoung almost an hour later, and his features show not hostility but pleasant surprise when their eyes meet. “What are you doing here?” he asks, looking brightly confused. The colour is high in his cheeks, but he’s still walking steadily enough, so Wooyoung figures he can’t be _that_ drunk.

“I was invited,” Wooyoung says testily, resisting the urge to step back as Yeosang gets close enough for him to smell without even trying. It hits him like a jolt to the system once again, so mouth-watering as to be disorienting, and the last thing he wants to do is to drop his fangs in front of a room full of strangers who are already uncomfortable in his presence.

Subtlety, however, has never been Wooyoung’s strong suit. Yeosang immediately seems to notice the way Wooyoung is trying to lean away from him, and his smirk widens, an odd reversal to every encounter they’ve had previously.

“You want a taste, don’t you?” he says mockingly, and he steps in so close that they’re practically nose-to-nose. Bristling at Yeosang’s audacity like a fluffed-up cat, Wooyoung feels it happen in an instant – the smooth slide of his fangs that are impossible to hide, forcing him to lift his upper lip slightly in a permanent snarl to accommodate their length. He’s genuinely alarmed now – he doesn’t know what game Yeosang is playing, and he doesn’t know if he wants any part of it.

“You weren’t so eager to be bitten the last time we met,” he growls, low and annoyed, resisting the urge to look around self-consciously.

Yeosang touches his arm lightly, the same action that Wooyoung distinctly remembers using on Yeosang himself, and murmurs, “Oh, calm down. You can’t blame me for not wanting to be jumped by every vampire in the club. Imagine how good my blood will taste if I already smell the way I do.” His smile is challengingly sly, and Wooyoung thinks with dull panic that he almost prefers the cold, uninterested Yeosang to this inexplicably flirtatious creature before him.

Wooyoung has always been a city boy at heart. He was born in the city and he died in the city, and even now, he’s never left Seoul more than twice in the past century. Perhaps Yeosang is some eldritch beast from the countryside that he’s never encountered before, a fae or a were or some kind of witch.

“My coven will come looking for me if anything happens,” he warns through cold lips, but he finds himself following Yeosang obediently into Hongjoong’s spare room anyway, trailing after that cool pine scent like a bloodhound. It’s fine, he tells himself as Yeosang locks the door behind them. He’s a vampire, for god’s sake. He can handle one puny human.

He doesn’t expect the sweet, almost childish excitement gleaming in Yeosang’s eyes when he finally turns back to face Wooyoung. The mocking attitude has vanished abruptly now that they’re exactly where he wants them to be, his blonde hair curling into his eyes as he sits down on the bed and peers over at Wooyoung.

“I’ve never been bitten before,” he announces, “but Yunho always tells me how amazing it feels.” He rolls his eyes sceptically, a flash of the old Yeosang that Wooyoung is more accustomed to rising to the surface just then.

Wooyoung dithers a foot away, not quite sure what he’s getting himself into. “You really want to do this?” he asks, confused. “You didn’t seem to like me very much last time.”

Yeosang shrugs. “My mother always told me to be careful around vampires, but you seem alright. And I’m a little less sober than usual, so there’s that.” He seems quite shockingly casual about it all, and truthfully, Wooyoung is fairly eager to get a taste of what he’s been smelling, self-control be damned.

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel real good,” he promises, pushing Yeosang down onto the bed and clambering over him in one quick motion before either of them can change their minds. It’s an odd position – Wooyoung’s not in the habit of getting into bed with his meals, but he’ll take what he can get, especially in this situation. Bending, he takes a quick sniff of that unmistakable scent and sighs gustily against Yeosang’s neck.

Yeosang makes a small noise then, like he’s about to speak, but Wooyoung barely takes a moment to position himself just right before sliding his fangs in with a quick jerk of his head, and whatever Yeosang is about to say dies in his throat.

Yeosang’s blood is – well, Wooyoung doesn’t really know what Yeosang’s blood tastes like, because the moment it hits the back of his throat, it feels like a jolt of electricity strikes just behind his eyes. His vision blurs with the force of it, and he opens his lower jaw wider in a muffled moan of surprise. The movement jolts Yeosang beneath him, and he has no doubt that it hurts this early into the bite, because the pained whimper that Yeosang lets out does not sound euphoric at all.

Wooyoung wants to apologise, but all he can do is continue to drink until the effects of his venom kicks in. The thing is, there’s something very strange about Yeosang’s blood. Wooyoung feels limp, woozy, almost like he’s being drugged, and he no longer knows if he’s even holding himself up or if he’s just resting against Yeosang and sucking him dry, but whatever’s in his mouth just tastes so _good_.

He feels Yeosang draw in a slow, trembling breath against him before relaxing fully, his hand falling from the side of Wooyoung’s waist to the bed with a quiet thump. Every part of Wooyoung feels uncomfortably prickly, so unbearably sensitive that he thinks he might be shaking from it all – from the crazy kick of Yeosang’s blood in his veins and the warm, living heartbeat pulsing seductively against his mouth in a rapid double-beat rhythm. He presses his fangs in deeper, grinding his hips downwards, and Yeosang arches against him with a breathy gasp, his legs jerking helplessly beneath Wooyoung.

The swift gush of warm blood down Wooyoung’s throat makes his vision flash white for a moment, and suddenly it all feels like too much of a good thing. He tears himself away from Yeosang so quickly that he lists to the side – he might as well be the drunk one with how off-balance he feels, and he shakes his head violently as if that might help to stop the merry-go-round spinning in his brain. Blinking, Wooyoung instinctively dips back down to lick sloppily at Yeosang’s neck, cleaning up the blood and clotting the open wounds, which really are somewhat concerningly bigger than they should be.

Yeosang himself is quiet, his eyes glazed and the familiar slack, giggly look on his face that Wooyoung sees all the time whenever he’s done feeding, but he’s breathing and his heart is beating strongly in his chest, so Wooyoung figures that’s good enough. He stares down at Yeosang, with his pale hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo and a streak of red still running down his neck, and feels like he’s teetering perilously on the edge of a cliff.

Wooyoung desperately wants another taste of Yeosang’s blood, but something about the whole situation doesn’t feel quite right to him. He’s too jittery to really think, his veins buzzing with confused energy as he debates round and round in circles with himself, until finally he collapses down onto the bed and rolls over, and is deep asleep within seconds.

* * *

It’s past midnight when Wooyoung awakes, practically midday for him. He feels exhausted, like he’s been run over by a train multiple times, or like he’s just crashed after an incredible high, and he’s only half-surprised to find Yeosang still lying beside him. Yeosang is curled into himself, quiet breaths puffing out from between his slightly-parted lips, and he looks surprisingly vulnerable in slumber.

Wooyoung leans in and breathes deeply, his lashes fluttering as Yeosang’s scent assaults his nostrils and jerks him awake, like a tamer version of his blood on Wooyoung’s tongue. The memory makes him shiver, and he looks down at Yeosang with new apprehension. He’s never lost control of himself like that before, but then he’s never tasted blood like Yeosang’s before either. It’s human for sure – he’s no creature of the darkness like Wooyoung – but with a little extra _oomph_ to it that Wooyoung can’t place.

He shakes Yeosang’s shoulder in one quick, jerky motion, and Yeosang makes a little whining noise of protest that takes Wooyoung aback for a moment. “Yeosang,” he tries again, and finally Yeosang cracks his eyelids open just a little, sleep-mussed and disoriented, and so adorable that it should be illegal.

“What,” he mumbles, barely audible even to Wooyoung’s keen ears.

Honestly, Wooyoung isn’t actually sure what he wants from Yeosang right then. “I just wanted to check that you were fine,” is what he settles for, and he can see the exact moment the memory of a few hours ago slams back into Yeosang’s brain. His hand jumps up to his neck, settling on the thick, raised scabs with a wince, before his eyes flick uneasily back to Wooyoung.

“I’m alright,” he says quietly, but he seems subdued, and after a moment he continues, “I probably shouldn’t have asked you to do that. Are you – how are you feeling?”

Wooyoung blinks slowly at that, recalling the vivid thickness of Yeosang’s blood sliding down his throat, and the pinprick sensitivity of every part of him as the buzz travelled through his body. Even now, he can feel himself wanting more – not just any blood, but Yeosang’s – and that scares him more than he would have expected.

“What are you?” he asks flatly.

Yeosang doesn’t do him the discourtesy of trying to lie. He doesn’t even break eye contact with Wooyoung.

“I’m half-fairy,” he says, like it’s obvious, because on hindsight it kind of is, and Wooyoung’s just a complete idiot like Mingi’s always accused him of being. What kind of human radiates _light_? What kind of human looks like a statue carved from stone, perfect enough to rival even Seonghwa’s sharp features?

The worst thing about it is that fairy blood is poison to vampires, a sure-fire way to leap headfirst into a second death. Luckily, half-fairy blood isn’t, as it turns out. It’s just some sort of ridiculous psychoactive drug that Wooyoung can feel himself starting to crave after a single taste.

“You could have killed me,” Wooyoung says numbly. “You let me drink from you and you didn’t even know if your blood was safe for vampires.” The reverse is true too, of course. He could very well have drained Yeosang dry last evening.

“I did tell you the first time we met. I said you wouldn’t want to bite me,” Yeosang says, but his voice is small, and he won’t meet Wooyoung’s eyes. Suddenly, he seems very, very young to Wooyoung, and he finds his heart softening just a little.

Yeosang is, after all, very pretty, and vampires do love beautiful things.

“Did it feel good for you, at least?” Wooyoung asks, and he almost starts preening at the way Yeosang immediately flushes, the answer plain on his face. “You’re so lucky you met me.” He smirks, all annoyance forgotten as he leans closer once more to breathe Yeosang in, his tongue flicking out to drag across the healing scabs high on his neck. His fangs have extended again, and it’s a struggle and a half not to sink them into the meat of Yeosang’s shoulder at once.

“Not now. I’m tired,” Yeosang murmurs, as if he can read Wooyoung’s mind, and he does indeed sound drowsy, his eyes closed and his head still slightly tilted upwards for Wooyoung to nose around at his neck. Wooyoung draws back, half-smiling as his gaze trails down Yeosang’s still profile.

It’s hard to tell now if he still finds Yeosang fascinating or if he’s just intrigued by the taste of half-fairy blood. He feels like one of Pavlov’s dogs, ready to start salivating at the mere sight of Yeosang’s bare neck.

“You’re going to regret this, you know,” Wooyoung says lazily, tracing a finger around Yeosang’s hand where it’s splayed out elegantly on the covers. “If you get me addicted to you, you’re going to have to deal with me for the rest of your tragically short life.”

Yeosang snorts. “Don’t get addicted then,” he mutters dryly, his eyes opening halfway just to throw Wooyoung a very unimpressed look.

Wooyoung laughs, his eyes fixed on the tantalising movement of Yeosang’s throat as he speaks. “I think it’s a little too late for that,” he says archly, but this time, somehow, his mouth finds its way to Yeosang’s soft lips instead of his sweet, slender throat, and it’s there that Wooyoung stays for a good long while.


End file.
